


i'll walk you home (you don't have to love me)

by laurenswriting



Series: could be blue, could be you [4]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: (not elu don't worry), Alcohol, Almost Kiss, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Binge Drinking, Break Up, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Like lots of pining, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Unrequited Love, drunk!lucas, eliott decides to be brave, eliott smokes on a balcony and Realizes Things, eliott takes care of him, lucas is sad and cuddly and drunk, they're in uni, waking up together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-06-27 13:49:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurenswriting/pseuds/laurenswriting
Summary: lucas blinks and eliott is gone, but he blinks again and eliott is there, walking past lucas with his phone close to his ear. he breezes by, barely looking up, and lucas can hear him muttering something into the phone. something along the lines of “why are you calling?” and “did you forget about yesterday?” and “hold on, lucille,” and oh. that’s right.or: they're at a party and lucas is drunk. he's also in love with eliott, but that's nothing new.





	1. vendredi

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: "stay here tonight" + "i need to tell you something"
> 
> thank you to the anon who sent in this prompt!!!
> 
> tw: alcohol, binge drinking
> 
> title from "adeline" by john-robert (10/10 [would listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MT83WbpUmqA) while reading this)
> 
> un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine
> 
> hope you enjoy!! :)

lucas feels _good_.

there’s a drink in his hand and he’s surrounded by his friends and _they’re_ all feeling good and it’s just. it’s good.

well, the corners of his vision are a little blurry, but that’s fine, he doesn’t need to see over there anyway. and there’s a buzzing in the back of his mind, but at least it’s drowning out the awful music. (he really needs to get daphné to give him control of the playlist next time.) also, the room might be spinning a bit? but that just might be because he’s been dancing all night, and really, there’s nothing wrong with that.

lucas has every right to feel good tonight, goddammit. deserves it, even. he’s been feeling bad, really bad, for so fucking long that it’s about damn time he feels good. doesn’t matter if he needs alcohol to do it.

speaking of: his cup is empty.

he claps yann on the shoulder and waves vaguely off to the side, and his arm feels a little like it’s moving through honey but yann seems to understand anyway, and pushes him off. lucas migrates from his spot on the dance floor over to the kitchen, stumbling over knots in the carpet and dodging stray limbs as he goes. emma’s by the counter, pouring some candy pink concoction into her glass, and he slides his own cup in next to hers.

“this shit’s strong, lucas,” she mumbles, open bottle hovering over his cup. (is she mumbling? she might be yelling. lucas can’t really tell.) “you sure?” he nods wordlessly, watching every last drop slip over the lip of the red plastic, and he snatches the cup away as soon as she’s finished.

“good luck with that one, dude,” she says, leaving a small pat on lucas’ back as she heads over to where manon is shimmying on the dance floor.

lucas hiccups and takes a sip and fuck, she wasn’t lying. this shit _burns._ he can barely swallow it down, hot pink flames licking up his throat, choking him from the inside out.

he coughs a bit, then spots eliott across the room and coughs harder. eliott, with a joint tucked behind his ear and a beer bottle clutched between his fingers. eliott, who keeps pulling his phone of out his pocket only to shove it back in a breath later. eliott, who, in lucas’ humble opinion, looks absolutely fucking stunning under daphné’s weak neon lights, blurry vision be damned.

it’s not fair, really, that eliott looks that good, and it’s especially not fair that he looks that good at all times. lucas has known him for nearly five years at this point, since they were awkward teenagers with neon sneakers and ill-fitting shirts and shoddy haircuts, and not once has he caught eliott looking less than perfect. lucas thinks it’s a crime.

he giggles to himself, imagining eliott being dragged away in a police car on account of being beautiful. (if anyone is going to get arrested for being too pretty, it’s going to be eliott.)

lucas blinks and eliott is gone, but he blinks again and eliott is there, walking past lucas with his phone close to his ear. he breezes by, barely looking up, and lucas can hear him muttering something into the phone. something along the lines of “why are you calling?” and “did you forget about yesterday?” and “hold on, lucille,” and oh. that’s right.

they came to this party so that eliott could forget. they came to this party to push the past three years of back-and-forth with lucille out of eliott’s mind. they came to this party because all of the boys were single at the same time for the first time in years.

according to arthur, that was a reason to celebrate.

lucas had done his best friend duty, letting eliott rest his head on his shoulder as the others had planned the night. there weren’t any tears, but eliott was far more subdued than usual, and both had stayed sober at the gang’s pre-game. lucas had promised himself that he would check in with eliott throughout the night, vowed to not leave his side at the party, committed to only having a beer or two, max.

that went out the window as soon as they walked in: basile had grabbed eliott’s hand and yelled, “we’re getting you laid tonight!” as they charged into the crowd. (basile and lucas have very different ideas of “best friend duties.”)

lucas had quickly lost eliott in the blur of the party, but he thinks he might be better off this way, alone in the kitchen and the porch and the dance floor while eliott is surely out there meeting people and flirting and dancing and going upstairs and —

_no, lucas. you just saw him walk out. don’t fucking do this to yourself._

and eliott can do as he pleases, anyway. he’s twenty fucking years old. let him have the night to himself.

(but it’s just that lucas is single and eliott is single and lucas is in love with him but eliott is probably still in love with lucille and it’s fucked, everything’s fucked, but at least he has alcohol.)

he sloshes the pink mix around in his cup and just the sight of it churns his stomach, but eliott’s soft “lucille…” as he was heading outside floods lucas’ brain and he knocks back the rest of his drink in an instant.

he slumps into the counter, and it’s digging into the small of his back but he doesn’t really care. at least it’s something outside of him, something to feel, something to distract him from that crumbling sensation in his chest.

lucas’ cup is empty but he wants more, maybe more of that pink stuff, and he rifles through the open bottles on the counter until he finds what he’s looking for. the bottle nearly slips out of his hands when he tries to pour its contents into his cup and —

“lucas?”

he hears his name coming from some far-off land and it sounds like music, sounds like his favorite song, and oh. eliott’s back.

his phone is still in his hand but the screen is dark, and lucas doesn’t know how long eliott was gone but he hopes it wasn’t more than a minute. eliott looks a little better than he did earlier in the night, his jaw a little less tense and his eyes a little brighter, but that might be the alcohol talking.

“eliott!” lucas yells, stumbling over to the other boy and throwing his arms around his waist. he drops his cup onto the floor at some point, and eliott would probably scold him for it if he wasn’t trapped inside their hug. “how are you? i missed you, raccoon.” he’s laughing but the sounds get muffled as he nuzzles his face into eliott’s chest, and something tells lucas to kiss the sliver of bare skin peeking out from eliott’s button-up so he does. it feels really nice, just like he thought it would, and lucas goes to do it again but eliott pushes him away.

“how much have you had to drink, lu?” he asks, and lucas pouts. he’s not _that_ drunk, thank you very much.

“a couple.”

“a couple of what?”

“i don’t know.”

eliott sighs, and lucas shuffles forward to hug him again but eliott steps back. “wait here for a sec.”

it doesn’t feel like a second, feels like much more, until eliott is coming closer with a bottle of water in his hands.

“drink this.”

the cap has already been twisted off so lucas chugs half the bottle, only pulling it from his lips when eliott tells him to slow down. he sees eliott staring at him and he feels a drop of water trickle off his lips and down his chin, but his drunk brain won’t let him make the connection.

“how do you feel now?”

sad. tired. a little sleepy.

(eliott’s looking at him so intensely, neon lights flickering in his eyes, turning the grey into a rainbow. lucas feels his blood turn to vapor and he melts into the air.)

“i’m dizzy.”

he’s not.

“you’re dizzy?”

lucas nods anyway and there are hands on his cheeks, fingers gliding along his jaw. they’re rough and calloused but warm and gentle, and lucas lets himself fall into the touch.

“let’s go home, then.”

* * *

lucas doesn’t really notice how they get home. logically, he knows they must’ve gotten on a bus, must’ve crawled their way down the sidewalks to his apartment. he’s been on the journey from his place to daphné’s many times over, and he knows this path like the back of his hand.

but all he can think about, all he can absorb from the night, is eliott. eliott holding him up as he trips on a stray branch. eliott curling his fingers around lucas’ wrist as they find seats on the bus. eliott letting Lucas rest up against him as he draws lucas’ keys out of his pocket. eliott brushing sweat-drenched hair off of lucas’ forehead as he half-carries the boy to bed.

_eliott._

lucas’ head is lowered onto the pillow and his shoes are taken off and he sighs, letting his eyelids fall shut. he feels good, feels taken care of, feels _loved_. if this is what happens when he gets wasted, maybe he should do it more often.

off to his side, there’s the light thud of a glass of water being placed on his nightstand, then the rough slide of an aspirin bottle coming in next to it.

“let me know how you feel in the morning, okay, lucas?”

lucas groans, turning over onto his side to face the door. he can’t — eliott can’t leave.

“no.”

a pause. the shuffling of feet against rough carpet.

“no?”

“stay here tonight,” lucas mumbles, waving grabby hands in eliott’s direction (or at least what he hopes is eliott’s direction; lucas can’t open his eyes, can’t watch eliott leave him for the night).

“okay,” eliott whispers, and he sounds so far away, voice cracking and breaking against those two syllables. “i’ll be out on the couch.”

“no,” lucas repeats. _stupid boy, beautiful stupid boy._ eyes still closed, lucas fumbles with the sheets, pulling a corner back and sliding over to make some room. “stay _here._ ”

lucas can’t be sure how long it takes eliott to come over (everything feels like an eternity right now), but suddenly the covers are being pulled back further and legs slide up against his and lucas is warm, so warm, and it feels so fucking good.

he wastes no time in cuddling closer, drunken limbs heavy as they lie along eliott’s torso. it takes a second or two, but then lucas feels a light hand settle on the curve of his waist as a pair of lips press into the swoop of his hair. _(home,_ his mind screams, and lucas doesn’t bother denying it.)

“thanks for bringing me home,” lucas slurs, lips slow with sleep.

“i’ll always bring you home,” eliott replies, and god, he doesn’t even know, does he? eliott doesn’t even fucking know how much lucas craves to be in his presence, how he’s come to find so much comfort in the older boy over the past few years. through everything that he’s been through, every house and apartment and couch he’s slept in, nothing has compared to the sense of belonging lucas feels when he’s with eliott.

it’s bursting out of him, pulling at the seams that are so loosely holding lucas’ heart together, and lucas doesn’t really want to rip himself apart.

“i…” a yawn. “i need to tell you something.”

the darkness of sleep is starting to creep into his mind. lucas feels it crawling towards him, but he can also feel eliott’s heart pounding beneath his cheek, and something in lucas’ drunk mind says fuck it.

“it’s an important something.”

eliott sighs, and the hand on lucas’ waist tightens. “in the morning, lu.”

“but —”

“lucas, wait until morning, when you’re sober,” eliott cuts him off, but his voice remains soft, remains kind. “i’ll be right here.”

lucas grumbles, but it’s okay. he’s in love with eliott now, and he’ll still be in love with him tomorrow. a few hours won’t change what’s been constant for years.

“fine,” he mutters, curling closer to the other boy. another kiss is brushed against his forehead, and lucas hums, content.

“goodnight, lucas.”

“goodnight, eliott.”

he’ll tell him in the morning.

* * *

his head hurts before he can even open his eyes. something is stabbing him right beneath his eyebrow, and it feels like his eyelashes have been coated with glue. lucas has to reach up and physically force his eyes open, but as soon as he meets the day, he drops his hand as if it’s been burned.

_fuck._

all he sees is eliott, glowing in the soft morning light, all smooth shadows and sharp cheekbones.

lucas vaguely remembers asking eliott to stay last night, but he must’ve been really drunk to ask eliott to stay in his bed. (fuck, what was he thinking?) and even worse, he’s _on top of eliott_ right now, chin pillowed on eliott’s chest, right above his heart. one hand is curled around the boy’s waist while the other is twisted around his shoulder, and lucas takes a moment to memorize the feeling of eliott’s body against his before he pulls back.

and eliott, _fuck,_ eliott follows lucas as he goes. lucas turns onto his back, but he can barely lie down before he hears a groan and has a tattooed arm thrown around his waist.

lucas freezes, hands half raised in the air, hovering above eliott’s skin. his fingers twitch, and lucas aches to reach out and trace the veins that line eliott’s forearms.

lucas folds his hands over his ribs instead, only letting the tips of his pinkies graze eliott’s arm, tickling the hairs there. his chest hitches and it jostles eliott a bit, but the boy only presses closer. lucas shuts his eyes tight and tries to take deep breaths but it’s hard to focus when the boy he’s been in love with for years is wrapped around him like he belongs there.

fuck, lucas isn’t making it out of here alive.

“eliott, wake up,” he whispers. he shifts his shoulders, pokes at the boy’s cheek, whatever he can do to make eliott wake the fuck up and _get the fuck off of him before he combusts._

“eliott,” he repeats, and it’s louder and more insistent this time, his words breaking the careful quiet of the morning. “eliott, please.”

there’s a groan beside him and slowly, so slowly, eliott unwinds his arms and pulls back. lucas feels the breath rush out of him, but his heart is still pounding from their sheer proximity. (he looks over at the other boy and their noses just barely brush and god, lucas can’t feel his toes.)

“hi,” eliott mutters, words trailing off into a yawn. he’s more beautiful this early in the morning, lucas thinks, his eyes soft with sleep and lingering dreams.

“hi.”

"how are you feeling?”

lucas bites his lip, eyes flickering over the mess of eliott’s hair, tracking the flecks of gold highlighted by the sun.

“not as bad as i expected.”

eliott hums, rubbing his cheek along the pillow. “i put some painkillers on the nightstand. figured you’d need them.”

“thanks,” lucas replies, barely more than a whisper. “was i that bad last night?” the memories trickle back to him, snapshots of pink drinks and neon eyes and hands joined by moonlight. he pushes them away.

eliott huffs out a laugh, wide smile bursting between his cheeks. “worse than usual, but definitely not your worst.”

“i didn’t… _do anything_ , did i?”

eliott shakes his head, steady and sure. “nothing.”

lucas breathes out a sigh of relief. he never really goes into parties looking for a hookup, too preoccupied with the tall boy who’s usually by his side, but sometimes he’ll be just sad enough and just drunk enough to go upstairs with a stranger.

“actually, um…”

lucas snaps his head up, bright blue gaze zeroing in on eliott’s bitten-red lips and bashful eyes.

“you said you had something to tell me,” eliott whispers, and he shifts up so he’s resting on his side, facing lucas.

“i did?” o _h shit._ lucas doesn’t remember saying that, but he knows _exactly_ what he would’ve said, given the chance. the boys have told lucas he’s an emotional drunk, but god, he really needs to get this under control.

“you did.” eliott smirks, and lucas almost crumbles right then and there. he might have, actually, if he hadn’t been interrupted by the buzz of eliott’s cell on the nightstand.

eliott rolls over, pulling his phone off of the stand and unlocking it to read the message. lucas catches a glimpse of the screen and sees lucille’s name splayed across the top and eliott’s pleased sigh burns holes in lucas’ lungs.

god, he knew it wouldn’t last. it never really does. but last night eliott had been _so adamant_ that this was it for him and lucille, that this truly was the end, so lucas had let that small shred of hope in. the alcohol had only tugged the hole open wider, let him dream past his limits. _m_ _aybe it’ll be different now, maybe now we’ll have a chance._ but then he had seen basile pushing eliott towards a blond boy in the corner, and lucas couldn’t get away fast enough.

so fuck that. drunk lucas might be a romantic, might have let his heart get the best of him last night, but sober lucas knows better.

eliott finishes typing out his response, sliding his phone back onto the bedside table with a huff.

“sorry about that,” he says, groaning slightly as he gets resettled under the covers. “what was it you wanted to tell me?”

(he loves him he loves him _lucas loves him_ but lucille loves him too and lucas knows that he’s not even an option for eliott to consider.)

“i don’t remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for all the angst slkdfjsk anyway thank you for reading :)
> 
> kudos/comments are always appreciated ♥ also feel free to send me prompts whenever!!
> 
> tumblr: [tawmlinsun](https://tawmlinsun.tumblr.com) // [ficpost](https://tawmlinsun.tumblr.com/post/186255177082/nr-1-and-nr-85-maybe-for-the-prompts-list)


	2. samedi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> massive thank you to everyone who asked for a part two!! this is for y'all ♥♥ (i still can't believe the response this fic has received!!! makes my heart all warm and fuzzy!!!)
> 
> un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine
> 
> hope you enjoy :)

“i don’t remember.”

“oh.” eliott deflates. he had thought, maybe, just for a second, that lucas was going to — never mind. “well, let me know if you think of it, yeah?”

lucas nods, shifts on the pillow. “sorry for cutting your night short,” he says, the corner of a sheepish smile crawling up his cheek. “i know it was supposed to be your big night out or whatever.”

“it’s fine,” eliott replies, brushing it off. “didn’t really want to be there anyway.”

“what would you have rather done?”

eliott shrugs, and it jostles the sheet draped loosely across his torso. “something calmer. easier.”

lucas furrows his brow and his nose scrunches up and it’s cute, he’s cute, and eliott has to avert his eyes.

“like what?”

“i don’t know…” he trails off, smirking. “maybe a couple joints, some beers. _i_ choose the music.”

lucas chuckles and it’s better than any song eliott could’ve picked, light and airy in the glow of the morning sun. “i don’t know how the guys feel about dubstep,” lucas replies.

“figured it would be just us, actually,” eliott admits. (it’s true: the night would’ve been better, so much better, if it was just eliott and lucas. _every_ night is better when it’s just eliott and lucas.)

lucas’ eyebrows flick up and the corners of his eyes follow, a hint of a smile just below the surface.

“i would’ve liked that,” he says, soft like it’s a secret.

“me, too.”

a breath. a pause.

eliott parts his lips, confessions and reassurances at the tip of his tongue (there’s a reason why it’s better with lucas, there’s a reason why their moments together leave eliott feeling more like himself than ever before).

but then his phone starts vibrating again, the screen lighting up behind him and reflecting off the ceiling. it stops for a second then picks back up again, with almost more vigor than before, and eliott has half a mind to turn the damn thing off.

“aren’t you gonna get that?” lucas asks, voice low.

“no.”

“it’s probably lucille.”

“i don’t care.”

“you don’t?” lucas’ voice is tight, hesitance and disbelief filtering through his lips, and his eyes are locked somewhere above eliott’s left ear. eliott wants to scream, yell, wave his arms around, whatever it takes to get lucas to look at him, _really_ look at him, again.

“no, lucas, i don’t.” he sighs. _you have one shot to get this right._ “i’m done with lucille. i don’t love her, haven’t for a long time. she’s been suffocating me for three years and i just — i just need to breathe.”

anger flames in his veins as he thinks of the constant calls, the reminders she set on his phone, the check-in texts every morning and night. it was strangling, smothering, all-encompassing in the worst of ways. he never got a break from it, never got a break from _her_ , and though he was grateful at one point, that had quickly shattered into annoyance.

his minutes with lucas were eliott’s only reprieve.

“but you can breathe with _me?”_ eliott’s eyes snap up from where they had drifted onto the pillow and lucas looks _small._ (and lucas is not small, god, he’s larger than life and something is wrong, so wrong.) his eyes are wide, pupils dilated and framed by a ring of ocean blue, and eliott connects their gazes, unflinching.

“yeah,” eliott whispers. “yeah, i can.”

and they’re still in lucas’ bed, still tucked beneath the covers, and even with the faint buzzing in the background (that _can’t_ be lucille, it has to be the guys), eliott feels protected. he’s surrounded by lucas, but in a good way, in the best way, and eliott is comforted by the closeness.

“is that why you broke up with her?” lucas asks, timid. “because you couldn’t breathe?”

“yes.” _no._ “or partly, at least.”

“what’s the other part?”

and. well. that one’s not so easy is it? not when the truth could change everything, force eliott to lose all he’s held dear. but then again, a lot of things have changed in the past 48 hours. what’s one more?

_do it, demaury._

“i’m in love with someone else.” he says it in one fell swoop, the words rushing out and jumbling themselves together in the space between the two boys. eliott lets them sit there for a second, lets the letters and the sounds soak into the sheets and creep over to lucas.

“oh.”

and there’s a smile on lucas’ face but it’s sad, so sad, and eliott aches to reach out and _comfort._

“do, uh, do they know?”

eliott takes a deep breath, gaze never straying from lucas’. “they do now.”

silence. lucas is biting his lip so tight, so close, that eliott thinks he’s about to draw blood. he knows he’s no better, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he studies lucas’ reaction, attuned to even the finest movements of the boy’s features.

“eliott, what are you saying?” it’s not even a whisper. it’s a breath, it’s a wish, a prayer offered up to the heavens above, and it lingers on the pillowcase, bridging the gap between the two boys.

“i’m saying i’m in love with you.”

he sees lucas start to panic, sees his wide eyes and the telltale quirk of his flushed red lips. _fuck._ _he really thought —_

“and i’m also saying it’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” eliott rushes, the words pouring out of him, apologetic and unsure.

lucas’ mouth drops open and eliott curls in on himself, starting to roll off the bed. _you ruined it. you ruined it you ruined it you ruined it._ “i-i’m sorry, lucas, i’m—”

“don’t be.”

lucas’ voice is quiet but it’s strong, and a hand slides across the canyon separating them. it grips onto eliott’s hip, pulls him forward, pulls him back to lucas. eliott’s body is frozen in lucas’ hold but his lips are not and he tries apologizing again but the other boy shushes him, crawling closer under the covers. _“eliott…”_

lucas’ thin fingers leave trails of fire as they draw eliott back in and glide up his neck, curling around his jawline to rest along his cheekbones. he traces the dips and curves of eliott’s face, drawing invisible patterns along his jaw, his chin, and eliott revels in his touch. eliott feels the ice in his bones melting, and he tips his head forward so their noses brush, foreheads knocking together with the gentlest of pressures. it fuels lucas’ flames and eliott lets himself burn.

“i’m in love with you, eliott,” lucas says, declares, promises.

it’s the best thing eliott’s ever heard.

he lets out a breathy laugh, and his eyes slide shut to savor the feeling. _love, in love, i’m in love with you, eliott._

“it feels so good to say that,” lucas murmurs, voice cracking around the words, and he keeps shaking his head like he can’t believe they’re here in this moment. eliott thinks it should be him that’s disbelieving, already astounded by the fact that he can love and be loved back (and by _lucas,_ of all people).

“it feels so good to _hear_ it,” eliott answers. he hooks an ankle around lucas’ calves, uses the leverage to pull the other boy closer. eliott runs his hands down lucas’ bare forearms and lets them fall to the boy’s waist, delighting in the goosebumps that rise in his wake.

he knows he looks ridiculous, smile pulling his lips thin and tight, grin so wide he thinks his cheeks might spilt open from the strength of it all. and lucas is probably going cross-eyed trying to look at him, and god, that can’t be comfortable, but at least eliott is going cross-eyed trying to look at lucas, too.

“can i kiss you now?” lucas asks, nerves wavering through the consonants, the vowels. _stupid boy_ , eliott thinks. there’s not a single universe in which he would say no.

“please do.”

the first press of their lips is soft, testing the waters, fearful of drowning. the second is harder, stronger, knee-deep in the rising tide. the third pulls them both under and he goes willingly. eliott hopes lucas will follow. (and he does.)

* * *

later, after the sea sweeps them away into its depths and they make a home for themselves beneath the waves, eliott and lucas rest. they settle into themselves, into this new version of _lucasandeliott, eliottandlucas,_ and it’s easy, easier than eliott would’ve ever thought possible.

on some level, at the back of his mind, buried deep beneath _best friends_ and _lucille_ and _burden, you’re a burden, don’t burden him,_ eliott had hoped for this. he had hoped to feel lucas’ fingers rucking up his t-shirt and sliding up his back, had hoped to hear the rustling of sheets as they press closer, as they roll over, as they figure out how their bodies fit together in this new world they live in.

they resurface from the waves as a tangled mess, all knees and elbows and ankles and wrists, chests heaving with the breaths stolen from each other’s lungs.

lucas’ stomach growls, and it ruptures the calm that had settled over them.

eliott laughs in a burst of air, and he pulls an embarrassed lucas closer to his side. “are you hungry, babe?” he asks. _(babe. he can say that now.)_

lucas presses his face into eliott’s collarbones, and he can feel the heat radiating of the boy’s pink pink cheeks. it’s a calm sort of burn, the one that warms eliott from the inside out. “kinda, yeah,” lucas responds, his voice skimming across eliott’s chest in the pathways his fingertips leave behind.

“want some breakfast?”

“not if you’re making it.” eliott snorts, winding his arms tighter around his boy and sliding him closer, closer, closer.

“i crack the eggs, you make the omelette?”

lucas presses a kiss to his chest.

“deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: eliott only gets one piece of shell into the omelette, so he'd say it's a success
> 
> thank you all for reading!!! hope you enjoyed this lil resolution to the Angst
> 
> ♥ kudos and comments are always welcome ♥
> 
> tumblr: [tawmlinsun](https://tawmlinsun.tumblr.com) // [ficpost](https://tawmlinsun.tumblr.com/post/186450183374/ill-walk-you-home-you-dont-have-to-love-me)


	3. jeudi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait on this one y'all!! i really wanted to do these two justice, and i hope i achieved that. 💕
> 
> and, once again, thank you to the anon who originally sent in this prompt, and to everyone who has commented or messaged asking for more of this universe. i love you all 💖💖
> 
> i hope you enjoy the final installment in this lil trilogy!!!
> 
> un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine

eliott breaks up with lucille on a thursday.

it goes like this:

eliott texts lucille in the morning, asks if he can come over that afternoon. it’s almost the end of the week, and he knows she doesn’t have any classes but he does, and he shows up at her door at 4pm with a backpack full of art supplies.

“i need to talk to you,” he states, no room for negotiating, no room for questions. he brushes past her to stand in the center of the living room, his pencil case rattling around as he sets his bag on the ground. “lucille, i —”

“you’re breaking up with me.”

his head snaps up. “how did you —”

“you have that look in your eyes,” she says, shrugging it off like it’s nothing. like _he’s_ nothing _._ “i’ve seen it enough times to know what happens next.”

“okay,” eliott stammers, taking a breath, already annoyed. “i _am_ breaking up with you, lucille. for good this time.”

she snorts. “you mean you won’t be back here by sunday night?”

eliott rolls his eyes. he doesn’t mean to do it, the habit pulled out of him by lucille’s incessant complaints. she snorts again, but it’s laced with frustration and it satisfies something within eliott. they’re headed into dangerous territory already, but he’s used to that by now. lucille pulls this every fucking time he tries to end things, and yeah, maybe eliott has come crawling back to her before, but never again.

“for good,” he repeats.

lucille scoffs anyway, and it grates against eliott’s bones. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

she goes to pick up his bag, usher him out the door before he can start shoveling his own grave, but eliott steps out of her reach.

“i’m serious, lucille,” he says, firm and unrelenting. “it’s done; we’re _done._ ”

something in his tone makes her stop, makes her freeze, makes her turn to him with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. “you’re serious right now?”

“fuck,” he starts, shaking his head. “ _yes,_ lucille, i’m being serious. it’s over.”

she steps back, arms crossed, and looks him up and down. everything inside eliott is telling him to squirm and shift and crumble under her gaze, under her _examination_ , but he won’t allow himself to give in. not anymore.

“you and lucas finally smartened up, then?”

and now it’s eliott’s turn to stop short, frozen in place by the chill running down his spine, by the iceberg piercing through the pit of his stomach.

“w-what does this have to do with lucas?”

eliott doesn’t know what’s happening but he knows his heart is pounding and his fingertips are going numb and something is knocking at the back of his mind but fear is keeping him from opening the door and letting it in.

_shit. she can’t be —_

“oh, don’t give me that, eliott,” lucille spits, venomous and biting. “don’t you _dare_.”

he falters, knees buckling a bit as he steps backwards with the force of her stare.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he _does_ , he thinks, but he can’t say it, the words twisting themselves around his brain and diving out of his reach, too afraid to go out in the open.

“bullshit,” lucille challenges. “you know _exactly_ what i’m talking about.”

she laughs but it’s humorless and it hurts. it sounds nothing like her, void of melody and joy, now dull and dark with anger.

“fuck, eliott, i made my peace with this a long time ago. figured it was just the way things were, figured there was no point in bringing it up. nothing would’ve changed, anyway. so, i…” she trails off, uncrossing her arms to curl them around her shoulders, protective. she seems small, eliott thinks, but her words are getting bigger and bigger, driving themselves into eliott’s mind and letting fear bleed through the cracks they create.

“i _settled_ , eliott,” she continues, and eliott feels something inside of him turn to dust. “i settled because even a small part of you was better than nothing at all.”

lucille sighs and shifts so that she’s staring right into eliott’s eyes, erasing their height difference with the tilt of her chin.

he’s scared.

“so for you to come in here and play dumb about all this is really fucking rich, eliott,” she seethes. “real rich. what, are you _having fun_ with this? wanted to play me one last time?”

“i-i swear to you, lucille, i didn’t —”

“didn’t _what_ , eliott? didn’t _know?_ didn’t think i’d notice?” she leans back, mouth agape with a laugh half-formed in anger. “well, news flash, eliott, _everyone fucking noticed._ everyone!” her yells echo around the room, voice rough with emotions reverberating between eliott’s ears.

“do you know how many times i’ve heard _oh, poor lucille,_ at school? how many times people have tried to comfort me after you run off with lucas and ditch me at a party? _fuck_ , eliott, the night we _met_ you left me for him.” 

it takes a second, but it comes back in a rush. eliott and lucille, seventeen years old, off in a corner on the first night of their university orientation weekend. they had hit it off, joked around, found things in common. two literature nerds, they were. but eliott had cut the conversation short when he saw lucas come into the room, fresh off his tour of the science buildings, eyes still bright despite the dark circles beneath them. fuck, eliott doesn’t even remember saying goodbye to lucille that night, too focused on reuniting with his best friend after a long six hours apart.

_fuck._

that might’ve been the first time eliott chose lucas over lucille, but it certainly wasn’t the last.

“i’m sorry, lucille, really,” he tries, but eliott knows it’s weak, knows it’s pointless. “but i swear to you, i didn’t —”

“fuck’s sake, eliott. didn’t _what?”_

“i didn’t want to, okay?” eliott yells, finally breaking, and he crumbles down onto the couch. “i didn’t want to love him.”

eliott’s voice splits in two, in three, in four, in a million little pieces, shattering underneath the weight of his words. he ventures a quick glance up at lucille, sheepish and scared, hands twisted behind his neck.

when he speaks, it’s barely above a whisper.

“i didn’t want to love him.”

his eyes are burning. eliott blinks and the tears start to fall but they’re not putting out the flames, no, they’re _fueling_ them.

everything hurts.

“lucas doesn’t need me loving him; he’s got enough shit to deal with as it is,” eliott croaks out as he curls into himself. “i can’t — i can’t add to it.”

“eliott…” lucille begins, soft, but he cuts her off.

“you know it’s true, lucille,” he mutters, throat thick with anger, voice coated in despair. “look at _us._ i can’t risk that with him.”

she takes a shaky breath, one that eliott feels more than hears, and comes to sit beside him.

“he’s not…” she starts, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “he’s not me, eliott. lucas won’t turn into me. you two won’t end up like us.”

“says who?”

“says him _._ says _you_ , eliott. we did this to ourselves, you know?” that shuts him up. “god, eliott, when has lucas _ever_ treated you like a burden? like being around you was a hassle?” he falters, mind racing, but lucille takes his silence as a sign to continue. “fuck, he…he treats you _so_ much better than i ever have.” she’s crying now, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, their tracks a perfect match to eliott’s own.

“i knew you didn’t love me, eliott, not the way i wanted you to.”

eliott finally, _finally_ , lifts his head to look at her straight on and immediately wants to run out the door, take it all back, turn the clock to yesterday. her eyes are rimmed with red, the tops of her cheeks are stained with mascara, and her hair is blurry around the edges, disrupted by rough hands and rough feelings.

“and fuck, i tried _so hard_ to make you love me like that. thought maybe i could… _nurse_ you into it or something. and i’m sorry for that, eliott, but i —”

“no, lucille, i’m sorry,” he interrupts. “i should’ve ended it _months_ ago. you never deserved this, any of it.”

“you didn’t deserve this either,” she whispers.

eliott sighs, shaking his head. that one’s a little harder to believe.

“we both fucked up, yeah?” he looks up, looks her in the eye. it might be hopeless now, but he needs her to know this. “but i loved you, lucille. i did.”

she smiles, soft and sad, and lets out a breath. “not enough, though. not like you love him.”

eliott gulps, and it hurts to hear because it’s the truth. it’s been the truth since eliott was fifteen, but he never let it in, too scared of what it meant for their friendship, for the home lucas had carved into eliott’s heart. eliott thinks he’d fall apart if lucas were to leave, but he owes it to himself, to lucas, to _lucille_ , to be truthful.

“yeah,” he breathes. “not like i love him.”

because eliott loves lucas with every part of himself, unrelenting and unchanging.

he doesn’t quite know when he fell in love with lucas; it slipped into his veins unannounced, lingering in the background for years. and really, eliott only figured out he was in love with lucas a few months ago, during an end-of-term party at lucas’ apartment.

lucille had left town for the holidays, hopping on a train as soon as she turned in her last exam, leaving eliott to go to the party alone. well, not _alone,_ really; he and lucas were attached at the hip from the moment they arrived. that was nothing new for them, but what was new was the lack of lucille tugging on eliott’s hand to drag him to the dance floor or pull him away from the drinks table.

what was also new was the lack of jacques, lucas’ ex, shutting lucas off in a corner for the entire night. it had always bothered eliott how jacques would hide lucas away at parties, to the point where _none_ of the guys would be able to hang out with lucas, let alone eliott. it had bothered lucas, too; he’d told eliott once during a lull in one of their study sessions, an excess of caffeine surging though the boy and dissolving his usual filter. he said it was isolating, controlling, that he never liked jacques all that much in the first place and that this wasn’t doing him any favors.

a little thrill had run through eliott then, but he chalked it up to the excitement of getting his best friend back. it had been a while since they had gotten to hang out outside of studying, after all.

and then lucas broke up with jacques and lucille went on vacation and for that one night, for that one glorious night, lucas was all eliott’s. and eliott was all lucas’.

they drank until their throats burned and they danced until they could barely stand, falling into each other on their way to the couch, desperate to catch their breath in the hot and humid apartment.

“you good, lu?” eliott asked, squeezing himself into the corner of the couch to give lucas a bit more room.

the other boy laughed, sharp and clear despite the loud music circling around them. “i’m _great,_ e. so great.”

eliott craned his neck around to check on his best friend, took one look at the glassy, dazed expression on lucas’ face, and promptly burst out into bellowing laughs.

“don’t laugh at me!” lucas protested, shoving eliott’s shoulder to press him further into the couch.

“i’m sorry, it’s just —” eliott choked out between giggles. “you’re _so_ gone, lu.”

lucas scoffed. “you’ve had just as much to drink as me!”

“yeah, but you’re tiny,” eliott mused with a smirk, patting the top of lucas’ head twice for good measure.

“asshole,” lucas muttered as he shoved eliott again, the other boy responding with an elbow nudge of his own. “oh, really? you wanna go there?”

eliott shrugged, answering lucas’ smirk with nonchalance, and leaned back into the cushions.

instantly, lucas’ hands shot up to eliott’s torso, deft fingertips poking at the boy’s ribs and tickling up towards his neck. eliott attempted to dodge out of the way, only able to retaliate with weak presses against lucas’ shoulders.

they traded shoves, each push getting softer and softer, each boy moving closer and closer until their noses brushed, foreheads nearly slamming together with their momentum.

they were a breath apart.

eliott sobered up instantly, fuzz fading from his mind as he took in lucas’ features, everything brand new from this close up. parted pink lips, dark flared eyelashes, piercing blue eyes.

maybe it was the alcohol, but eliott could’ve sworn he saw lucas lean in just the tiniest bit.

then, two things happened: one, manon turned on lucas’ favorite the clash song, and two, mika finally turned on his neon lights.

lucas went absolutely wild, leaning away to pull a dazed eliott up off the couch to the center of the dance floor, lacing their fingers together as he pushed them through their small crowd of friends.

mind reeling, eliott tried to shake it off, tried to lose himself in the music like before. but he couldn’t, not really.

he jumped around underneath a pulsating rainbow of light, and he looked at lucas. he took a swig of his drink and let a few drops dribble down his chin, and he looked at lucas. he bumped shoulders with his friends as they flailed through the night, and he looked at lucas.

eliott looked at lucas, and he thought lucas was beautiful.

lucas’ hair was sticking up in all directions but it looked soft as ever, and his eyes looked brighter than normal underneath the lights, if that was even possible, and when he smiled over at eliott, barely able to sing the lyrics through his grin, eliott felt himself stumble over air.

his heart started pounding against the music, the new beat thrumming through his bones and throwing him off balance. there was a rattling in the back of his brain, four letters shaking around to form a word, two syllables pushing through to the surface.

eliott thinks it starts with l and ends with e.

_shit._

“i’m gonna get some air! you stay here, okay?” eliott had shouted once the song ended, breath catching in his chest as he leaned in close. lucas had nodded, waving him off without breaking stride, still bouncing to the beat of the music, unaware of eliott’s newfound crisis.

eliott wove his way out to the apartment’s tiny balcony, shutting the glass door behind him and engulfing himself in the silence of the night. there was still the faint hum of music and chatter coming from inside, but he tuned it out as he swiveled to face the street.

he dug around in his pocket for a slightly smushed cigarette, lighting it up and bringing it to his lips as he leaned over the railing. two puffs. a siren in the distance.

eliott turned back around.

his vision was a little blurry but if there’s one thing eliott has always been able do, it’s find lucas. his eyes sought out the other boy instantly, spotting his arms flying above his head, punching the sky to the beat of the song. eliott smiled to himself at the sight, the tops of his cheeks burning pink, and he took another drag from the cigarette.

smoke poured through his lungs, trying its best to numb eliott from the inside out. but eliott was struck by lighting a few minutes ago, and he can’t seem to shake off the shock.

with every clouded breath, eliott felt the word taking form in his mind. it _did_ start with an l, then came an o, then a v and an e, and then another l and o and v and e, then lo and ve, then love, it was love, _it was love._

it rushed through eliott’s entire body, bursting out of him and pulsing through his veins, threatening to break through the skin. and in a split second, he felt everything. _fuck_ , it was a tidal wave. 

eliott’s eyes found lucas one last time, and he let his eyelids flutter shut.

flashes of blue danced in the darkness, illuminating snapshots of two boys, one shorter and one taller, always together. first, they’re in the library, huddled together over their textbooks as they furiously study for the bac. and then they’re at their favorite burger place by their uni, stealing each other’s fries, and eliott takes the last one off of lucas’ plate but he gives the boy one of his onion rings as an apology. then they’re younger, they’re sixteen, and they’re curled into the corner of eliott’s bed. eliott’s choking out the words, “i’m bipolar,” between sobs and lucas — lucas is pulling eliott to his chest and he’s crying, too, but he’s saying it’s okay, that he loves eliott, that nothing could get in the way of them, of their friendship.

fuck, it’s always been him. lucas, his one constant, his one truth.

eliott’s eyes flew open to the night, locking back onto lucas’ dancing frame. his cigarette had gone dead in his fingers and he tried to light it again but he was shaking too hard to get a grip on the lighter. eliott wrung out his hands, cracking his knuckles against his hip before trying again, more successful this time around.

he shuffled the lighter back into his pocket and brought the cigarette back to his lips, lifting his head once more.

eliott stared through the glass door, tracking lucas’ every move, watching him fly free through the night. there was a lull in the music, it looked like, because lucas slowed down and turned towards the balcony, his eyes locking onto eliott’s instantly.

lucas quirked his brow and eliott shrugged, words flowing between them despite the distance.

_had it always been this easy with lucas?_

eliott tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night, wispy clouds floating away as the glass door clicked open and shut, music rushing outside before cutting off again. he looked down, looked to the side, looked at lucas coming to lean on the railing next to him.

“i don’t come out here enough,” lucas said softly, running his fingertips over the iron gate. “it’s nice. quiet.”

eliott hummed, taking a drag and blowing the smoke over his shoulder, away from lucas.

“good place to be alone,” he muttered, eyes flicking between lucas and the ground.

lucas froze, straightening up off the railing. “shit, e, sorry,” he stammered, stepping back. “i didn’t mean to — i’ll just go back inside, okay? sorry.”

“no,” eliott rushed, stopping a flustered lucas by curling his fingers around the boy’s bicep. “stay.”

“you sure?”

“yeah,” he breathed. “we’re alone, aren’t we?”

“technically you’re not alone if you’re with me,” lucas teased, eyes dancing with moonlight and neon.

eliott shook his head, his grip on lucas’ arm loosening, dragging his fingertips over the boy’s elbow as he pulled his hand away.

“i’m always with you.”

lucas answering smile shone brighter than the full moon above them. eliott hoped his blush wasn’t too noticeable underneath the stars.

lucas stepped forward again, forearms hanging off the railing as he twirled his fingers around themselves. eliott had to fiddle with the cigarette to keep himself distracted.

how did he never notice this before? how his eyes always, _always_ drifted to lucas, no matter where eliott was or who he’s with. how his body angled itself towards the other boy on instinct. how he could pick lucas’ voice out of a crowd in an instant, in a split second, like it’s a radio station playing solely for his ears.

and god, had lucas always looked at him like that? with awe, with wonder, like eliott’s something to be marveled at?

he’s _not,_ he’s anything _but_ , and the thought that lucas might see him that way, the way eliott saw lucas, was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

eliott’s phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking him out of his reverie, and he pulled it out quickly, flashing the screen to life to check the notification.

shit. _lucille._

fuck, he can’t — he can’t be with her anymore, can he? not when his world has gone lopsided, or maybe right side up.

everything felt right, like he was meant to be here, meant to see this, meant to _feel_ this.

he can’t be with her anymore.

eliott sent lucille a quick response, vague and noncommittal, and turned back towards lucas.

“wanna head back in?” he asked, stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray in the corner, twisting around to face the other boy.

lucas pushed himself off the railing slowly, muscles tensing with the effort. eliott had to stuff his hands in his pockets so that he wouldn’t do something as stupid as reach out and _touch_.

eliott really needed to break up with lucille.

“lead the way, e.”

and sure, it took him a couple months, but now eliott’s here, on lucille’s couch, miles away from lucas’ apartment, and he’s telling his now ex-girlfriend he’s in love with his best friend.

“don’t think i’m not mad at you, eliott, because i am,” lucille says, waving an indignant finger in his direction. “but i still want you to be happy. you two deserve it.”

eliott laughs, but it’s sad. “lucille, i don’t even know if he’ll —”

“he will. he does.”

eliott’s face flushes, whether with affection or disbelief, he doesn’t know. he nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“we’re really done now, huh?” lucille says with just a touch of sadness, or maybe relief.

“yeah, we are.”

it feels good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS THE END OF THIS FIC 🤧🤧 i absolutely adored writing it and am v sad to let this universe go 😭
> 
> i hope y'all liked this lil peek into eliott's journey to loving lucas
> 
> 💖 thank you to everyone who has left a kudos or a comment!!! 💖 they mean more than you know!!! 💖
> 
> tumblr: [tawmlinsun](https://tawmlinsun.tumblr.com) // [ficpost](https://tawmlinsun.tumblr.com/post/187116324204/ill-walk-you-home-you-dont-have-to-love-me)


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